Learning to Breathe
by EternalStar1
Summary: After the war, many struggle to come to terms with the changes in their lives. A series of drabbles about healing, love, and forgiveness. Each chapter features a different character.
1. Andromeda Tonks

**AN: SPOILER ALERT. TURN BACK IF YOU HAVE NOT READ DH OR DO NOT WISH TO BE SPOILED.**

The epilogue of DH would seemingly tie everything up into a neat little package, but I found there were still many ends left hanging. What happened to the Dursleys? What happened to Hermione's parents? Etc. So anyway, here's my take on what happened to some of the characters. They'll all be short drabbles, really, none longer than 500 words.

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**Learning to Breathe**

**Andromeda Tonks**

Wars carried a heavy price, she knew. She'd seen it before. Seventeen years ago, she'd read about so many deaths. Every day, it seemed, she'd read about more and more in the paper. There had been so many lives – young and old, but all precious nonetheless - lost. She'd cried many nights for those she had known and would never see again and held silent vigils for those she would never meet.

Freedom is not free. It is paid for not only by Sickles and Galleons, but also by bloodshed, tears, and sacrifice. Seventeen years ago, she had learned what the cost of a war like this was.

But she had never fully understood it. Not until now.

She kneeled down and arranged the cheerful bouquet of daisies of all colours that she had brought with her. They had always been her daughter's favourite. Leaning over, she brushed her hand against the marble. Her fingers slowly traced the letters engraved in the cold, grey stone.

_Nymphadora Tonks Lupin_. _Remus John Lupin_. Underneath was a saying chosen by Harry: _Fear nothing but fear itself._

Up until this point, she had been strong. In front of everyone else, everyone who had been so worried about her. She had held it back then. She had constantly reminded herself that she was not the only one in pain.

But now that she was alone, she could only think of her loss.

And so, here, alone, where no one could see, she grieved. She grieved for her husband who was killed because of blind prejudice and hate. She grieved for her son-in-law who had finally found peace with himself and the world. She grieved for her daughter who would never be able to watch her son grow. And most of all, she grieved for her young grandson who was robbed of his grandfather, his mother, his father, and the right to ever know or love them.

Teddy sat in his pram, oddly quiet. He was normally babbling and giggling, but now, he sat in a sort of respectful silence. She gently brushed his brilliantly blue hair.

They lived on in him, she knew. He carried his grandfather's name, his mother's unquenchable zest for life, and his father's kind and beautiful soul.

"Be good," she whispered. "Be good for them."

He smiled at her, not fully understanding what she was saying. His hair changed to a colour she knew too well. Bubble-gum pink.

She smiled too, a single tear falling down her cheek.


	2. Ginny Weasley

**Learning to Breathe**

**Ginny Weasley**

Familiar green eyes found hers as she entered the room. She avoided them, walking right past him though she knew he wanted to talk to her. She had wanted so desperately to talk to him for days now – ever since the final battle – but at this moment, now that he was finally here, she didn't know what to say.

"Ginny," he said quietly. "Can we talk?"

She was silent for a while. Then finding her voice, she managed to utter, "Finally done being noble, then?" Her voice was unnaturally high. "Done saving the wizarding world and what not?"

Harry smiled at her sadly. "I think so."

She still couldn't look him in the eye. She knew if she did, she might very well break down. "Well then, what now?"

"I don't know," he said haltingly. "Ginny, I…"

"If you're going to say you're sorry, don't bother."

"No, I was…"

"And if you're going to try to explain about…"

"Ginny!" Harry grabbed her by the shoulders. "Please, let me talk."

Her eyes were burning. "Okay," she mumbled.

"I _am_ sorry," he said. "I didn't mean to ignore you all that time after my birthday. It was just… Ron told me to stay away…"

"I'm going to _ki_ – "

"He was right," Harry cut in. "I hurt you enough the first time when I ended it. I didn't want to get close to you again and just hurt you more…"

She shook her head. "It didn't matter, Harry. It didn't matter. Don't you understand? Watching you go hurt me enough, and not being able to get anywhere near you before you left hurt even more. You weren't sparing me anything."

Harry did nothing but look at her, but she still can't meet his gaze. She let her long red hair tumble over her face, hiding the tears threatening to fall.

"I never stopped thinking about you. Never." Harry gently pushed aside the hair that had fallen over her face. "At night, when I was keeping watch, I watched you, and sometimes it was the only thing that kept me going…"

She felt her throat tighten up and the tears she had been holding back finally fell. "I know," she whispered. "Somehow, I just knew. As cheesy as it sounds, I could feel you there with me."

"I'm sorry, Gin," he started.

"Shut up." And she kissed him more passionately than she had meant to.

She finally let herself fall into his embrace. All her fears – for her love, for his life – could finally go away. He was back. He was here, for her. She could finally allow herself to hope again.


	3. Draco Malfoy

**Learning to Breathe**

**Draco Malfoy**

"… charged with the crime of using Unforgivable Curses on Muggles and on fellow wizards, with the conspiring for the murder of Albus Dumbledore, with the crime of withholding information…"

He listened dully, every part of him completely numb. He could hear the words somewhere in the distance. Everything he had been accused of had taken place in the last two years, and somehow, it all seemed so far away.

The accusations continued on. Somewhere, the feeling of dread crept in. He shut his eyes.

"… we, the Wizengamot, find you, Draco Malfoy, guilty of all the crimes…"

He gripped his hands together tightly. His knuckles turned white.

"… and with his testimony, we have decided to reduce your sentence from fifty years in Azkaban to three hundred hours of community service and a five thousand Galleon fine. You are dismissed."

His head snapped up. "What?"

The new Minister of Magic peered over the stand to look at his defendant. "You're surprised," the Minister said. "He told me you might be."

"Who?"

"The witness who provided the testimony."

The shock was wearing off, and now he started to feel annoyed. "And who might that be?"

"Harry Potter."

He stared. He was so stunned, he didn't even notice being led out of the court room. Finally, he came to his senses and started to make his way out of the Ministry. He was nearly out when a crop of black hair caught his eye.

"Potter."

Potter turned around, looking for the person who had called his name. "Malfoy," he said when he finally saw him.

He stood there, not really knowing what to say. Potter shoved his hands in his pockets. "Third time's the charm, they say."

"Why did you do it?"

Potter shrugged. "It seemed like the right thing to do."

So typical of him. "You didn't have to."

"No," Potter agreed. "I didn't."

He still was confused. "I don't understand, Potter. Seven years… and you still…"

"I was there that night," Potter said. "Up in the tower with Dumbledore. I was under my Invisibility Cloak, but I heard everything. I knew you weren't going to…" Potter trailed off. "You were trying to protect your family."

He looked away. "I suppose I should thank you."

"That's what most people would do."

"I'm not most people."

"I know."

There was a pause.

"This doesn't make us friends."

"Of course not."

He looked at Potter. This was the person who had been the bane of his existence for the last seven years, the person he had insulted, tormented, and ridiculed at every opportunity he got. And yet Fate, in her ever twisted ways, had also made him the person who would save his life – in spite of it all – on three separate occasions. And at that moment, he began to wonder about everything he had ever believed in.

"Thank you," he said curtly.

Potter nodded. "Good bye, Malfoy. And… good luck."

As Potter walked off, he watched him, still wondering.


	4. Hermione Granger

**Learning to Breathe**

**Hermione Granger**

She walked nervously to the front door. Gathering up her courage, she held up her hand and rapped anxiously.

"Coming!" was the muffled response. "Oh, don't worry, Monica, darling, I've got it."

The door opened. A familiar, brown-haired man stood in front of her. He smiled cordially. "May I help you, Miss?"

She let out a breath she didn't even know she was holding. "Is this the Wilkins' residence?"

"Oh, you're English!" he said cheerily. "Well, you've come to the right place. We are indeed the Wilkinses."

"I'm one of your… one of your neighbors," she said, stumbling on the lines she had mentally rehearsed a hundred times. She cursed herself. "I just moved here from England too, and I was hoping to come in and meet you both."

"Of course! Come right in."

"Who's that, Wendell?" The woman sitting on the couch peered at her. "Hello, I'm Monica," Monica said, extending a hand.

Instead of taking it, she took the wand out of her jeans pocket. "_Finite Incantum!"_

There was a blinding flash of light. Wendell and Monica blinked.

She stood, on edge, grasping her wand tightly in her hand. The air felt thick and heavy around her. Her head was pounding. What if her charm didn't work? What if she had messed up and they would forever be Wendell and Monica Wilkins?

What if they couldn't remember who they were?

What if they couldn't remember _her_…?

She tried to open her mouth to speak. "Mum?" she managed to squeak out. "Dad?"

Wendell looked around him. "Where am I? Where is this place?"

"I have… no idea," Monica said, sounding slightly panicked. Monica looked at her and stared at her. "H…_Hermione_?"

"Mum!" she cried out, running to her mother and throwing her arms around her neck. Tears were now coursing freely down her face. "Oh, Mum," she sobbed.

"Hermione, dear," she heard her father say, "what's going on? Why are you so upset? And where the bloody hell are we?"

"Don't curse in front of her, Henry!"

She sniffled though now she was grinning. "We're in… Australia."

"Australia!" Mr. Granger's eyes were wide. "Whatever _for_?"

"I'll explain everything when we're back in England," she said. "I'm just so glad you two are back." She hugged her father now, who very uncertainly hugged her back.

"Have we been somewhere else?" Mr. Granger asked, completely bewildered.

"Apparently so," Mrs. Granger replied. "Australia."

"But she just said we were _back_. We can't just be _back_, we've been here…"

"I love you," she said rather suddenly. "So, so, so much." She was crying again.

Her parents stopped their bickering and turned to embrace their daughter, though they both looked confused still.

"Hush, now, Hermione," Mrs. Granger said soothingly. "Whatever it is… it's over now, isn't it? We're here now."

"Yes," Mr. Granger agreed. "We'll always be here, and everything's all right." He smiled at her as she wiped away tears from her eyes. "Now, let's get back to England… I bloody _hate_ Australia."

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**AN: **Hard to write a tearful reunion in 500 words or less. Hm. Not one of my favourites, but I like the comical bit at the end. 


	5. Neville Longbottom

**Learning to Breathe**

**Neville Longbottom**

"I'll be right back, all right, dear? I just need to go sign some papers over by the front desk."

He nodded. "All right, Gran. I'll see you in a bit."

Mrs. Longbottom walked off with some young mediwitch. He listened as their footsteps slowly dissolved into silence.

"Hello, Mum, Dad," he said softly.

His mother and father sat upright in their beds. Frank was staring at the ceiling, mumbling something under his breath. Alice was fiddling with her blankets, humming nonsensically.

"How have you been? Everything been all right?" He tried to smile. "The nurse says you've been doing quite well lately. Especially you, Mum. She says you've been eating really well and that you've been doing your exercise."

A creaking noise. Frank had moved.

"There's been a lot going on… since I last saw you." He chuckled a little nervously. "I wonder if you'd be mad at me if you knew what I'd been up to at Hogwarts this past year…" He rubbed the back of his neck. "Been getting into a bit of trouble, really. Raising hell for the Death Eaters… you know, those Carrows."

Frank yawned.

"And then the final battle… I was there. I fought too." He cleared his throat. "I saw… I saw that woman who did this to you… She finally died." He clenched his hands together. "It was Mrs. Weasley – I mentioned her before. You remember her, right?"

There was a long silence.

"This isn't properly edited!" came a shout in the distance. He looked up to see where the sound came from and saw the golden head of Gilderoy Lockhart waving around.

He stared down before turning to his parents. "He's gone, Mum, Dad. Harry finally did it. Voldemort's gone," he said quietly.

Alice coughed.

"And I helped." His voice was barely audible. "I killed Voldemort's snake. With the sword of Gryffindor. I pulled the sword of Godric Gryffindor out of the Sorting Hat. Harry told me only true Gryffindors can do that." He tried to smile.

"Gran said… Gran said that I'm truly your son and that you'd both be… you'd both be proud of me… are you?" His eyes were burning now. He was being silly. He knew they couldn't understand him… but he wanted to know…

Alice turned to look at him with her lips strangely curled. And he thought… for just the smallest fraction of a second… that she knew who he was and what he had just said, that she was smiling at her only son with pride.

"Neville? Are you ready to go?"

The spell was broken. He jumped up out of the chair and walked toward the door. "Yeah, Gran," he said.

"Well, let's be off, then. Goodbye, Frank, Alice, dear. We'll be back to visit again soon."

As he was about to leave, he turned his head, wildly hoping that maybe his mother was still looking at him. But she was fiddling with her blanket, humming again.

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**AN:** Any suggestions/requests? I have a few planned yet, but I'm willing to consider some others... 


	6. George Weasley

**Learning to Breathe**

**George Weasley**

Shattered glass shone like crystals on the wooden floor. It was dark. As he walked, he heard the sound of the glass, crunching under his feet.

"_Lumos_," he finally said.

He had come alone. He didn't have to. Bill, Charlie, Percy, Ron, Ginny, his mum, his dad, Harry, Hermione, Hagrid… the list went on. Anyway, they had all offered to come with him so he wouldn't have to do it alone. But he had insisted. There was no point in pretending, he had told them. No point in avoiding reality. After all, he'd said, if he didn't go alone, Fred would have never let him live it down – in this life _or_ the next.

He stared hard at the shelves. They were broken and empty. There had been several raids in Diagon Alley, and this shop had fallen victim.

Looking at the smashed shelves, he couldn't help but think they weren't the only things broken.

It still hurt too much to think about it, really. He tried not to, but he found it near impossible. For one thing, everyone kept asking him about it. Rather difficult to not think about something when everyone keeps bringing it up, really.

For another thing, losing Fred was much like losing his ear. It was losing something he had had since birth, something he depended on, something he had always thought would be there. The absence of Fred was as obvious as the gaping hole in his head.

_Splat_. He'd stepped on something… soft. And squishy. He looked down at the sole of his shoe. It was a Canary Cream. He sighed. Though a lot of their inventions had been mutual efforts, Canary Creams had been Fred's brainchild.

An odd thought just struck him. From this day forward, he'd have to think of new pranks on his own.

_On his own_. Those words were foreign to him. What did it mean, really? He'd never been alone before…

His eyes swept across the deserted shop. Every inch of the shop was rich in memories of the times he and Fred had shared. They had spent so much time together – their entire lives, practically. His mind drifted back to their younger years and all the pranks they had planned and successfully pulled off. Back to Hogwarts and their glorious days as Gryffindor's Beaters. Back to the Hogwarts kitchens, where they'd nick food at late hours of the night. As he reminisced, it was almost like he could hear Fred's voice again, asking him what they should do next…

And he knew. He _wasn't_ alone. Fred would always be there, in his memory, in his heart, in his very being.

"You're still with me, aren't you, Fred?" he said to no one in particular. "You know, the brilliant part is that everyone thinks you're gone." He shook his head and chuckled. "Poor blokes. They won't even see it coming."

After looking one last time, he decided to go. Cleaning up could wait. Today, he needed to cause some chaos.

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**AN:** I think the next shall be the last, unless I get a huge spurt of inspiration. Seems fitting though... seven drabbles for seven books? Yeah.

Anyway. Tell me what you thought.**  
**


	7. Petunia Dursley

Learning to Breathe

**Learning to Breathe**

**VIII. Petunia Dursley**

It was a still morning. She woke, blinking as the sun fell over her face. Next to her, her husband was snoring loudly. Slowly, quietly, she rose up and went downstairs to the kitchen to prepare breakfast.

She briefly wondered how long they would be there still. They had been here for months now, and yet it never really felt like home. And she never really felt safe. As long as they were here, there was a sense of uncertainty and a lack of permanence. _When would it be over?_ she wondered as she opened the cabinets and removed a mixing bowl. She started cracking eggs. _When would he…_

_Knock knock knock._

She nearly jumped out of her skin. They hadn't been told to expect any visitors. She felt her heart racing and heard it pounding in her ears.

_Knock knock knock._

She was frozen, rooted where she was standing. What should she do? _Should I go get help? Should I…_

"Aunt Petunia?"

That voice. She knew it. She nearly tripped as she walked over to the door and swung it open.

Harry Potter stood there at her front door. A mix of emotions hit her: relief, shock, and disgust.

"You!" she nearly spat out. "What do you want?"

He stepped in, uninvited and shut the door. "I won't be here long," he promised.

Huffing, she turned on her heel and returned to the kitchen. She had more important things to do. Picking up her whisk, she started stirring.

"I just came here to say… it's done. It's over."

_Splat_. She dropped her bowl.

"What?"

"You can go home now," Harry continued.

Silence.

"So you…" she hesitated.

"Yeah." He put his hands in his pockets and stared down.

She pressed her lips into a thin line. "I see," she said.

He nodded. "That's all. Someone will come to escort you back later tonight." Harry started to walk away.

"Harry, I…" Her voice got caught in her throat. Her nephew turned and faced her, his bright green eyes staring straight at her. _Lily's eyes_. She remembered so well. Lily, who for years, had been her best friend and dear sister… until Lily entered a world where she could not follow. How she had resented Lily for it! How she resented Lily for going off, leaving her behind; for not understanding her loneliness; for dying without saying goodbye. She swallowed.

"I never hated her." Her words left, a whisper on her lips.

Harry slowly made his way back to her. Wordlessly, he put his arms around her shoulders and pulled her in gently. She felt stiff, unsure of what to do. Cautiously, she wrapped her arms around him.

They remained there for a few seconds, in that silent embrace. Then Harry gently pulled away.

"Goodbye, Aunt Petunia." He disappeared with a pop.

She stood there, staring at the empty spot where he once was. Crumbling to her knees, she wept.


	8. Aberforth Dumbledore

**AN:** It's been a while since I last updated this. I had a chapter or two left in mind at the time, but just never got around to polishing the drafts I had floating in my head.

Well here's one that someone suggested - Aberforth! I hadn't really thought of that, but I think it would be interesting, yeah?

Ok, so here it is. There may be one or two more coming, and then this collection will be complete.

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**Learning to Breathe**

**Aberforth Dumbledore**

So much had happened, he reflected.

So much had happened – not just in the last few months, but throughout his rather long life. He had lived regretfully long. Life was difficult, he knew, but it was easier when you were surrounded by those you loved and loved you. It was made infinitely more bearable when there was a reason to see tomorrow. Surrounded by family and friends, life could even be – at times – enjoyable.

But somehow, he had managed to outlive them all. Father, then Mother. Then Ariana. Then, finally Albus.

He'd never thought he'd be in this position. The last one standing.

Too many times he'd felt as if he were the forgotten one, cast in the shadow of his brother. And Albus had cast a long, wide shadow that engulfed anyone that was near him.

So he had given up. He resigned himself to being the humble keeper of an inn and surrounded himself with his goats.

Never had he imagined how the world might change.

He stared at Ariana's portrait, smiling placidly at him. If he tried hard enough, he could still hear the sweet trill of her laugh. A tear streaked down his cheek.

For years, he had not been able to forgive his brother for what had been done. And all those years, he refused to believe that Albus would have ever conceded that he had anything to do with Ariana's death. No. It was easier the other way; that way, he could hate Albus for the loss of Ariana. But at what price?

What Harry had told him about Albus made him question everything he had clung to for so long. Had Albus repented? Did Ariana's death torture Albus the way it had him?

For years, he had been angry and resentful towards Albus. He was deeply wounded over Ariana's death. He felt he had lost the one treasure in his life, and that Albus, who had taken everything else already, was responsible for that loss. So he had lashed out at his brother, damaging their relationship irreparably.

And yet, he had lingered in Hogsmeade all these years, so near Hogwarts, where Albus was. He nonchalantly listened to his patrons' gossip, occasionally hearing references about his brother. And once in a while, he'd manage to catch a glimpse of his brother when he passed through the village. If he had hated Albus, would he have stayed so close?

He picked up the hammer resting on the floor and carefully positioned a nail on the wall. He pounded several times until it was firmly set. Carefully, he hung another frame.

He stepped back and waited, frowning at the blank background. Minerva had assured him this would work.

After a few moments, he saw a head peek in, and a pair of blue twinkling eyes framed by half-moon glasses smiling at him. And for a while, the two sat in silence.

Nothing needed to be said.

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**AN: **Sometimes, the simplest endings are the best.


End file.
